Fame is the shade of immortality, And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Contemn'd; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.

But love, like wine, gives a tumultuous bliss, Heighten'd indeed beyond all mortal pleasures; But mingles pangs and madness in the bowl.

Life's cares are comforts; such by Heav'n design'd; He that hath none must make them, or be wretched.

But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.

Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.

[The] public path of life Is dirty.

A dedication is a wooden leg.